The Bones
by JellyJennings
Summary: Two years after the fall of the Dark Lord and Britain's wizarding community is still working to get to a new, more stable normal—even if it means asking the unaskable of a generation that already put their lives on the line for their world. Non-epilogue compliant; slow build. *ON HOLD while I rework the timeline*
1. The Prick of a Finger

**"WIZENGAMOT TO SUPPORT BARCLAY'S SO-CALLED "MARRIAGE LAW" IN RESPONSE TO RISE OF SQUIB BIRTHS**

**Leopold Weber, reporter for the Daily Prophet**

_The United Kingdom's wizarding community is still rebuilding itself two years on from the end of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named's regime and his zealous followers. Though, now, the Death Eaters are hardly a serious concern for the population, it appears a new threat has begun looming over the heads of the still-recovering wizarding community._

_Recent census numbers have indicated that squib births have been on a rise for several hundred years now without any sign of leveling out. Numbers for 1999 indicate that a staggering 8.7 per cent of births produced non-magical persons. This is nearly three times the total recorded in 1959. Preliminary studies have indicated that thousands of years of close inter-marriages amongst the pureblood populations is a major contributor to the issue. The Ministry fears a rise in non-magical, wizard-born persons will be disastrous for Britain's long term economic and political standing in the Wizarding World._

_"A decrease in wizards and witches in our workforce will be vastly detrimental to the workforce," said Senior Warlock Pierce Trehar of the Wizengamont, representing Wales. "Whether it be in Cardiff's Pili-Pala Sgwâr to London's Diagon Alley, someone has to make the brooms, wands, and potions we use every day. Due to their lack of magical ability, squibs simply are ubable to fill the holes in the workforce."_

_Many ranking members of the Wizengamot, beyond Trehar l, have expressed a desire to take proactive measures against the issue. By slim margins, the members have voted to support Minster Anders Barclay's proposal to mandate marriages that would neutralize blood inequalities._

_The law will require those witches and wizards aged 19 to 40 to enter into predetermined marriages._

_"The Muggle World figured out long ago that generations of related people marrying and producing children can lead to physical and mental abnormalities as well as serious health risks," said Barlcay whilst making a case for his law to the Wizengamot. "For too long the Wizarding community has thought itself immune to those consequences, but the evidence is increasingly indicating otherwise. If we do not take action now, the fate of Britain's standing in the Wizarding World will certainly be bleak."_

_His arguments were strong enough to sway many undecided members of the Wizangamont to his side, culminating in a vote of 27 to 25 in favor of enacting the law, which will require pureblooded people to marry a half-blood or Muggle-born witch or wizard respectively. Junior Witch Della MacGuffey, of Scotland, accused the minister of forcing part of the population into a form of slavery._

_"It is our job to protect the basic rights due all witches and wizards living in our jurisdiction," said MacGuffey. "The citizens of the United Kingdom's wizarding community deserve to have a say in their lives. Taking away the choice as basic as whom they marry, copulate, and reproduce with should go against the morals of every member sitting on the Wizengamot."_

_Junior Warlock Abrahms Rowie joined MacGuffey in opposing the legislation, but for very different reasons._

_"It is not anti-Muggle-born to preserve the history and heritage of the long-standing pureblood families that have built this community," said Rowie. "This is yet another example of the Minister Barclay overreaching his authority to compensate for the deplorable actions of a small group that is no longer a threat. Must we continue to apologize for the actions of few in a faux-show of so-called goodwill?"_

_Members in favor of the law argued that, aside from offering exemptions for reasons of already being in a committed relationship, same-sex orientation, or having mental or physical issue that would prevent a child being produced, the Department of Mysteries asserts that they could determine the best possible matches for any given magical person through use of a complicated potion requiring a small amount of blood._

_Public reaction has been largely negative to the development, but Barclay says he is confident that, once the process has begun and people meet their matches, the naysayers will settle down._

_Immediately following the vote, the Ministry announced plans to contact all eligible persons by owl for a preliminary response, followed by another owl with instructions on where and when to go give their blood sample. Once all the samples are collected, the Department of Ministries will work their magic and alert people to their matches as they become available. Matches are to wed in waves spanning over the next 8 years, if not sooner. Although the Ministry says a child is required to be produced, they have not said how or if they plan on enforcing that portion. Barclay has said that failure to comply will result in indefinite excommunication from Britain's wizarding community._

_It has yet to be seen if enough of the public will comply with the law for it to have its desired effect, but one thing is for sure: the minister is sure to lose some support from those younger wizards who supported his bid for Minister after Former Minister Kingsley Shacklebolt died unexpectedly last year."_

"This is a load of shit," declared Charlie Weasley, throwing the latest issue of The Daily Prophet to the table. "Absolute dragon shit!"

"Charlie, language!" scolded his mother, Molly, although it was less commanding than usual.

"I'm sorry Mum, but this is an absurd thing to force on the population. How can they expect this of anyone?"

"You can't tell me there's no way to fight this," insisted Ron, the youngest of the Weasley boys, his eyes glancing around the table until they settled on his father. "They can't truly force us into this, can they? You're in the ministry, can't you do something?"

"The Department of Mysteries is a very secretive group," Arthur replied with a sigh. "The only person known to work there is the man who spoke to the Wizengamot and he's much higher on the food chain than I, or even Percy."

An uncomfortable silence fell around the table as Ron, Ginny, and George Weasley, Hermione Granger, and Harry Potter reflected on the article in the paper.

"Ginny, Harry, what will you two do then?" asked Arthur, knowing that conversation needed to be had, and as soon as possible by the sounds of it. The pair had been seeing each for quite some time now but hardly seemed at the point of wedding bells. "Will you get married or try your luck with the Ministry?"

The pair looked at each other, unsure.

"I think," Harry began cautiously, his eyes on Ginny the whole time looking for any indication of what she felt. "I think we'll have to talk about it. I feel like marriage would eventually be in the plans for us by the way things have been going and I would rather know that I could get along with my wife before it all being said and done with." Ginny gave him a small smile, which made him smile in return. They felt they had a strong relationship and were both banking on a future together before this marriage law nonsense.

"You're lucky, Charlie, that you're in Romania now," Ron said, rubbing his face in frustration. "They can't very well force you to take part in one of these sham marriages. You can actually find someone you like. Hell, you could marry a dragon for all the power they have over you."

"And what about you, Ron?" asked his mother. "Maybe you and Hermione could…" She trailed off. Ron and Hermione looked at each other uncomfortably, neither quite knowing what to say but knowing that was not an option.

"That's not in the cards, mum. Unless the Ministry matches us, it's not going to happen." Hermione nodded along, confirming Ron's words. That shipped had sailed long ago. They knew a marriage between the two of them would be rocky at best.

Ron snatched the paper from where it sat in front of Charlie, crumbled it up, and threw it has hard as he could at the floor.

"This is insane!" he exclaimed.

The table fell into another awkward silence. Hermione understood his anger. They had put their lives on the line to protect Britain when the Ministry failed. They'd lost loved ones, she thought. And now they were being asked to sacrifice their lives in a different way. At what point did they get to be free?

George, who had yet to say a word, couldn't take being in the room any longer. He needed to be along and think. Gingerly, he pushed up from the table.

"I need to check on the shop," he offered up, his lame attempt at an excuse before walking out of the room. The roaring of the fireplace moments later told them he had floo'd away, probably back to his flat above the shop, possibly to a pub.

The situation might not have felt so bad if the twins were there to make light of the situation. Two years removed from the Final Battle, George was still struggling to find the humor in life. He knew now how cruel the world could be. Maybe this would not seem so much as another suffocating nail to his coffin if Fred was there. But, he wasn't.

It'd been one month since the Wizengamot voted to take away the freedom of thousands of young witches and wizards. Once Hermione had recovered from the shock of the council actually voting through the measure, she set to work trying to find any way out, a loophole of sorts, that would let her live her life, damn it. She had read book after book on wizarding law, pestered multiple Ministry department heads and Wizengamot representatives who couldn't not take a meeting with one of the more revered witches of her generation.

Their answers were all the same. There's nothing they could do, nothing she could do, nothing anyone could do. She could file for an exemption but unless she found herself a serious, committed boyfriend fast or if she were willing to try to convince people that she was mentally or physically incapable of carrying on a successful adult relationship, she was stuck. And she hated being stuck. If she had more time to research then maybe she could find something, but her time was up. And thus, while two of her best friends were planning a wedding for a match made of time and love, she found herself standing in a long line at the Ministry, every step forward another space closer to a prick of a finger and impending doom.

She tried focusing on other things, but the occasional "next" and nervous chatter from those around her kept her on edge until it was finally her turn.

"Good afternoon," she greeted the old man, trying her best to sound pleasant and polite even though she felt everything but. He slid a parchment form and quill her way.

"Fill this out, check that you've missed nothing, and then we'll send you back to the Healer," he said, his voice so monotone you'd never guess he was talking about something life altering like being forced into marriage. He barely even glanced at her as he shuffled papers around his desk. Hermione filled out the paper as quickly as she could, wanting to get this all over with as if it were a nightmare. As promised, it was one prick of her ring finger and she was on her way.

The whole ordeal was all anyone could talk about at the Burrow's Sunday dinner. George and Ron were going back and forth about who all from their school days they saw in line, while Hermione complained about the callousness of the ministry officials running things.

"It's going to be bloody hard to not just throw out the letters when they come," admitted Ron.

"Why don't you three bring them here and we'll be right next to you when you open them?" suggested Molly. "It might make it easier."

"No offense, Mum, but I don't think anything will make this situation better, unless the Ministry comes to its senses," George replied bitterly.

"Well, it was just a suggestion." The tinge of sadness in her voice coupled with the deflated look on her face pulled at Hermione's conscious. She was trying, after all.

"I'll bring mine when it comes," she offered.

"Lovely, dear!" Molly's voice picked up a bit. "We'll be here for you no matter what's in the letter."

In the month it took for the Ministry to gather the majority of blood samples, and, in that time, she was almost able to forget about the law, instead focusing her attention on helping Ginny get everything in order for her wedding as well as her current pet project: a history book detailing the second rise of Death Eaters and the return of Lord Voldemort. As painful as it was to recall, it was therapeutic; her way of ensuring future generations will know the sacrifice made by so many great witches and wizards and the tragedy that befell because of Voldemort. This was what she was working on when she was startled by a tapping on her window.

An unfamiliar owl was perched on her sill with a thin envelope. Unassuming on the surface, but Hermione was dreading what was inside. With the slightest shake in her hands, Hermione stashed the letter away in her desk. She was more than okay with pushing the inevitable back a couple of days until the Sunday dinner.

Across town in a small flat in Diagon Alley, a different Ministry owl was tapping on the window of a red-headed man who, despite the importance of the letter's contents, had no desire to see what was within.


	2. An Adequate Match

**A/N: Hello, reader! Thank you for giving my story a try. This is my first real attempt at writing a Harry Potter fanfiction (or any kind of fiction) in roughly 5 years. Any notes, tips, even suggestions would be greatly appreciated!**

**Happy Reading!**

**Jos.**

* * *

George could hear the commotion inside the Burrow before he walked through the door. It was a full table tonight. Percy and Audrey were seated at the table talking to Bill and a pregnant Fleur about their latest venture to Egypt. Charlie, Arthur, and Harry were locked in a deep conversation about the limited uses of Muggle souvenir magnets, while Ginny and Hermione were helping

Molly finish up dinner while talking about her and Harry's wedding, now just two weeks away.

Bill was the first to spot George in the doorway.

"George!" he called, clearly happy to see his brother. He got up from his seat and walked over to his younger brother, clapping a hand on his shoulder. "How are things at the shop? Any new products I should be worried about? It's been ages since you've put anything new out."

George flashed a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes.

"We've got a few things in the works but nothing worth mentioning right now."

"Well, I'm sure whatever you come up with next will be just brilliant." Before George could respond, Molly started ushering people to the table for dinner. Normally, he would be scarfing down the spread of food that his mother prepared but that damn letter felt like it was burning his skin through his pocket. He didn't want to open it. He didn't want to know.

Across the table from him, Hermione was oddly silent. She made the appropriate sounds as Ginny gushed over wedding details but she couldn't stop thinking about the letter. She thought if she waited to open it she would be more prepared but, if anything, it just made her more anxious as her mind raced with worst-case scenarios. What if her match was twice her age, or in love with someone else? What if they were a former Voldemort supporter who would love a little revenge on one third of the "Golden Trio". Her eyes squeezed shut at the thought. If that were the case, maybe relocating to a different wizarding community wouldn't be so bad. She was pulled out of her thoughts by a change in Ginny's tone.

"Hermione, are you alright?" she asked gently.

"Of course," Hermione replied. Her eyes swept the table in surprise to see it had mostly been cleared and everyone was looking at her. "Sorry, I must've been lost in my thoughts."

"Did you get your Ministry letter?"

Hermione pulled the folded envelope out of her pocket and half-heartedly held it up for everyone to see. The ordinary, deep red wax stamp sealing it somehow seemed menacing.

"George got his, too."

Hermione turned her eyes on the Weasley across from her. Just a year older than herself, a man she'd known for nearly 10 years, and yet she couldn't decipher the emotion in his eyes.

"Ron?" Molly asked. Her youngest son held his hands up and shook his head.

"Nothing," he replied, allowing a little bit of relief to leak into his voice. The table was silent for a moment, the group taking in the last few moments of life as they know it. They all cared so much for George and Hermione and the thought of them being foisted into a relationship they did not want with people they didn't know was heartbreaking. George was the first to break the spell of silence in the usually loud house.

"Oh, hell," he sighed. "Let's get this over with." As he unceremoniously tore open the letter, Hermione followed suit with nervous hands. The two scanned their letters while the rest of the table waited in quiet, nervous anticipation, the only indication of what the letters held being Hermione's wide, clearly shocked eyes.

Mr. Weasley,

We are pleased to inform you that the Department of Mysteries has determined an adequate marriage match for you. You have been paired with:

Name: Hermione Jean Granger

Blood: Muggle-born

Age: 20

Employment: Writer, Lecturer

The Ministry requires both parties sign a contact at the Department of Mysteries located on level nine located at Scotland Place, London within 60 days, with a September 15, 2000 deadline. Within a month of filing the official contract, both parties will be required to provide proof of shared residence.

The Ministry thanks you for your compliance. Failure to do so by the stated date will result in a warning, after two of which the rebelling party will be sentenced to excommunication from the United Kingdom's wizarding population.

Sinclair Marquis, Head of the Department of Mysteries

Blair Fallow, Sr. Assistant to the Minister of Magic

George's eyes flashed to Hermione's to find she was already staring at him. The shock he was feeling was reflected in her face and, he was sure, his own.

"Well?" asked an impatient Ginny. "Say something! Who did you get?"

When both her brother and her best friend failed to answer her she snatched the letter out of Hermione's hands and read aloud.

"Ms. Granger, we are pleased to inform you that the Department of Mysteries has determined an adequate marriage match for you...adequate," Ginny snorted in disbelief. Adequate was hardly a word people should have to use to describe their marriage. "You have been paired with…" her voice trailed off. It was her turn to widen her eyes, for her jaw to drop in surprise at what she was reading.

"Out with it, Gin," Ron urged, curious as to who his friend, his first love, will be forced into marrying. Ginny took a deep breath.

"You have been paired with George Weasley, pureblood, aged 22, employment: entrepreneur."

"Oh, my," Molly breathed out. A couple other small gasps were heard around the room. Molly had always thought in the back of her mind that Hermione would be her daughter-in-law one day but not like this, and certainly not with this son.

Ron was frozen. He had prepared himself for Hermione to be paired with some random git but the idea of her with his brother was odd, to say the least.

Meanwhile, Hermione and George's focus was still locked on each other, both trying and failing at getting a grasp on what the other was feeling.

"This is...unexpected," Hermione said cautiously, the uncomfortable feeling that settled in her stomach forcing her to look away from the man the law said she had to marry.

"You've got that right, it's downright cracked," Ron snorted with disbelief. He was immediately scolded by his mother.

"Ronald Weasley!"

He offered a weak apology before turning his attention back to his brother and ex-girlfriend. Never in a million years would he have predicted a relationship between those two. It was hard to pin down what he was feeling. He wanted happiness for them both but he couldn't see how this could be it.

George was stunned by what he was seeing. Granger? The thought left him incredulous. Hermione Granger?

Sure, she was nice enough. She was incredibly intelligent, nice to look at, not to mention she was on great terms with his family. But she seemed to be the polar opposite of himself. He hadn't forgotten all the disapproving looks at the twins after pranks, at their not finishing school. Maybe he didn't know the woman across from him as well as he knew the girl he went to school with; it didn't matter. He was struggling to imagine a tolerable life, let alone marital bliss, with the witch—no matter how incredible she was on paper.

Hermione was struggling with the idea herself. Of all the outcomes she prepared herself her, this was not on the list. She could make small talk at Sunday dinners no problem but she couldn't place the last actual conversation she had with George.

"At least you're not paired with complete strangers," Percy said, probably trying to cut through the tension but his matter-of-fact tone did little to lighten the mood. Everyone else seemed to be waiting for Hermione and George to say something but the two seemed incapable of forming any sentence of substance. Even Molly, who always had something to say, was still wrapping her head around the strange pairing.

"Maybe it would be best if we call it a night," Ginny suggested. "Allow yourselves to take a day or two to get used to the idea."

The pair locked eyes once more, briefly, before Hermione agreed.

"That sounds like a good idea, Gin." Hermione stood up and reclaimed her letter. "Dinner was lovely, it was so nice to see everybody." Her eyes found Geroge's, who still had yet to say anything. She felt her cheeks flush and quickly excused herself, making her way outside. Ginny followed after her.

Once she was gone, George let out a breath he hadn't known he was holding.

"Bloody hell."

Outside, Ginny stopped her friend before she could disapparate.

"I know it's a shock, but are you feeling alright?" she asked.

"I...I think so," Hermione replied. It was mostly true. Her mind was racing with thoughts but even in her state of mind she could recognize it could've been much worse.

"George is, well, George but he's a decent enough guy when you get down to it." Hermione shot a tight smile at her friend.

"Maybe so, I guess I was just hoping that when I did get married, I'd think more than decent enough." She pulled Ginny in for a quick hug, squeezing her friend a little tighter than normal. Then, with a pop, she was gone.

A day or two turned into two weeks without any contact between the two. Hermione had hoped to talk more to George about their situation but he'd made excuses to miss the Sunday dinners. She felt a little guilty at the thought that avoiding her meant avoiding his family and, if she was being honest, a little rejected. She always made it clear that academics were more important to her than looks, but she also felt like she'd come along way from the bushy haired child she was when she started at Hogwarts. Those lingering thoughts weighed heavy on her mind. She tried enjoying herself at dinner but the mood had been awkward and uncomfortable since the letter opening.

Ginny, Molly, and Arthur would shoot her sympathetic glances when they thought she wasn't paying attention, and Harry tried to distract her with conversations about whatever was in the papers at the time. While she appreciated them, there was nothing they could do to take her mind off of her husband-to-be. She understood his reluctance, hell, she'd be lying if she said she wasn't feeling much of the same. But she also knew it had to be done if they wanted to keep any part of the lives they rebuilt after the war. An imaginary countdown clock was taunting her in her mind.

A month and a half.

She debated writing him but was worried that might be too easy for him to ignore and avoid. If he wouldn't come to her, and she couldn't write to him, then her only option was to go to him.

It was definitely not something he expected, seeing her march into his shop bright and early Monday morning, right up to the counter where he was going over the previous day's earnings with his shop assistant Verity.

"Good morning, George," she greeted, her voice pitched higher with what she hoped came across as cheer in her voice and not nerves. He blinked at her in surprise for a moment before recovering.

"Granger, what can I do you for?"

"Are you free tomorrow once you've finished your work, maybe for coffee?"

"Yeah, sure, that'd be fine." He was still slightly dumbfounded by what was happening. It isn't like he'd forgotten what their arrangement, but he had definitely been ignoring the situation instead of processing. He certainly never expected her to show up at the shop.

"6 o'clock?" He nodded in agreement.

"Great, see you then." Hermione practically spun on her heel to hurry out.

"Granger," George called out, causing her to whip around just before she was about to make her escape to the busy street. "Meet at Leona's?"

Her confusion faded into relief.

"Yes, that's...fine. More than fine." She threw a slight smile his way before turning around and making a much more calm exit.

"Sounds like a date," Verity said while keeping her eyes on the numbers. "Try to make it past three on this one because I'm not about to run this shop on my own while you're off traipsing around another country until the end of time."

George narrowed his eyes and gently pulled the books back towards him.

"I don't know if it counts as a date, given the circumstances." He paused, glancing back at the door. He straightened his shoulders, feigning the confident resolve he and his brother were known for. "It'll be fine."

Probably.


	3. A Great Friendship

Hermione shifted nervously in her chair.

Settled into a table for two nestled in the back corner of Leona's, she was stuck in a constant cycle of checking her watch, looking up at the doorway, and nervously sipping on her tea. The cafe was busy for a Tuesday evening. Not that she minded; the busier things were the less likely people were to notice her awkward attempt to figure this "relationship" out.

She glanced at her watch again. 5:45. She definitely showed up too early, she'd already been there since 5 o'clock. She liked feeling in control, liked knowing what to expect. This was entirely new territory, and not just because she hadn't dated in God knows how long. The idea of her and George Weasley seemed so far-fetched. The idea of living with George, of sleeping in his bed, of _sleeping_ with him. She felt her face scrunch and cheeks flush at the thought of that.

"Careful, Granger, your face'll get stuck like that," said George, snapping her out of her thoughts. He pulled out the chair across from her and sat down. Almost immediately as he sat down the young waitress hopped over.

"Care for a drink?" She looked expectantly at George.

"Just a coffee with a bit of cream," he ordered.

"And you, miss? Would you like a refill on your tea?" Hermione glanced down to see it was mostly gone, and figured after the hour she'd been here it was probably cold

"Yes please." The bubbly woman scribbled down their orders quickly and hurried away to a table a few feet away. Hermione reluctantly shifted her gaze to the man sitting across from her. He looked just as unenthused as she felt.

"So, how were things at the shop today?" she asked in an attempt to break down some of the tension.

"Things were good. We might be able to purchase Zonko's Hogsmeade location here soon at the rate we're going."

"Oh, I didn't know you were considering that!"

"Fred and I planned to do it years ago but things were shakey with the war and then Filch banned our products from the castle grounds so we had to put a pin in it while we figured out a solution." He leaned back in his chair and brought a hand to his brow. "We were close to figuring out some type of packaging that would make it look like a box of sweets with a hidden compartment but then Fred...well, you know. But Verity and I think we've finally got it."

"Well, good." Hermione didn't think she had ever had to look George in the eyes for this long before. It was strange, to say the least.

When he was talking about the shop, he looked more like his normal self. It was easy to see he was excited about the business growing and wanted to make the job as easy on his employee as he could. This was when he was closest to the George she remembered from before Fred passed.

That George was a force to be reckoned with. His mouth was always turned up in a smile and his eyes were full of life with the slightest glint to them that let you know he was probably up to something. This George was different. His looked tired. It was an unfamiliar look on his face and it was hard to see.

"Here ya go,"a voice said, pouring more tea in her cup.. Hermione's eyes snapped back up to see the waitress smiling down at her. "Let me know if you need anything else!"

Hermione looked back at George. He clearly hadn't looked away when she looked down.

"So should we get on with it, then?" he asked, his fingers fidgeting with his mug. "Have you thought about what you want to do?"

"For the wedding?" she asked. He nodded, barely. Hermione cleared her throat. "Right. Since this isn't exactly a love match or our choice I figured we can just sign the documents at the Ministry and call it good. I'm sure your mum won't be too keen on that so if she has any problems we can have a small dinner with just family at their's."

George's shoulders relaxed a bit. He hadn't done much socializing with the opposite sex since the Final Battle. At first, he was just trying to adjust to living without his other half but after awhile it was just easier

"That's alright with me," he agreed.

"Have you thought about where we'll live?" she asked. She felt her face heat up when the thought of sleeping in the same bed as George popped into her head.

"Well, I have the flat about the shop," he offered. "It's not much but it has two bedrooms so you could have your own space."

It was her turn to feel relieved. The prospect of having her own space was definitely appealing.

"Unless you've got a place you'd prefer," he added, her silence making him less certain about his suggestion.

"Oh, no, I've been staying at Grimmauld Place with Harry. The other wizarding communities have been trying to be proactive in avoiding what we went through so I travel quite a bit doing lectures."

"Are you free this week, then?" he asked. Hemione's eyes widened a bit.

"That soon?" She was a little surprised. It just seemed so...well, _soon. _Her transition from her parents home to Grimmauld hadn't even been that quick.

"Might as well not delay the inevitable. Besides, life is going to get busy as soon as we start the process of opening a second shop. With school starting up soon, your schedule is likely to pick up as well, yeah?"

"'Sposed to, yeah." She tried to push down the overwhelming feeling threatening to take over her brain. No matter how far they pushed it back it was always going to be too soon because they weren't supposed to be in this position to begin with.

"At least that we can get used to living together before the legal crap."

"How about day after next?" she asked, trying to quash the feeling as if cornish pixies were zipping around in her stomach.

"Works for me." He quickly finished off his coffee. "Things at the shop should be slow enough for Verity to handle herself around midafternoon. I'll have to help her close up, but that should give us enough time to move you in."

"Sounds...alright." Not that it would matter if it didn't.

"Alright." George glanced down at his watch. "I should get going, the shop will be closing soon and I'm sure Verity could use the help."

"Right, of course." They pushed up from their chairs and walked out of the shop. He turned to start the short walk to his shop but her hand on his elbow stopped him.

"George?" He turned around, shooting a curious look her way. "I know this isn't exactly the future you wanted, it's definitely not in line with the plans I had either. But I think if we try, we can be great friends."

"I hope you're right, Granger." George hesitated, not sure what the proper way to say goodbye to a government issued fiance.

Hermione smiled wryly and stuck her hand out towards him.

"See you Thursday?" It was clear by her voice that she was trying to stay positive. He had to give her credit, it was more than he felt he could muster, given the situation. He clasped her hand and returned the smile.

"See you Thursday."

Hermione turned around and disappeared into the crowd of Diagon Alley. She walked just as quick and determined as she had back when they were in school. He marvelled at how unaffected she seemed by it all. It had only been two years and she seemed just like her old self.

As impressive as it was, all he could think about while watching her was how bloody difficult this was going to be on both of them, and it wasn't fair.

A loud crash drew Ginny to Hermione's room at Grimmauld Place.

"Oh, Bugger," Hermione breathed out angrily. She was sprawled on her bedroom floor, her hair pulled back in a ponytail, with piles and piles of books all around her.

"Everything alright, Hermione?" Ginny asked as she leaned against the doorway taking in the scene above her. "I hope you didn't have those alphabetized."

"Well, they _were_ sorted by subject, but I figured I should go through and see if I can't get rid of some before I move into George's." She looked around at the rubble of her once-perfectly organized the piles she had sorted them into. Two hours work down the loo! "I don't think they'll all fit there."

"I thought he was giving you Fred's old room?"

"He is, but I'm not sure he's ever cleaned it out. From what I can tell, he can barely say 'Fred's dead', I don't think I can expect his room to be cleaned out. And even if it is, I'm not sure how much room could actually be in a flat above a shop."

Ginny shook her head.

"I wouldn't underestimate him. I've been to the flat and it's not half-bad."

There was a moment of silence as the two racked their brains for a solution.

"Don't you have a bottomless chest?" Ginny asked.

"I do, I just figured this would be a good opportunity to downsize a bit. I don't want to take up more of George's home that I have to.

"It'll be your home too, you know." She bent down and picked up the closest book to her. "_The Secret Life of Bowtruckles_?"

She looked up at Hermione, who could only shrug.

"You really do need to go through these."

Hermione let out a deep sigh and massaged her temple.

"I'll probably just put them in the chest."


	4. A Change of Pace

It's a weird thought, that somebody's whole life could fit into a couple of boxes. Really, one box if you use a shrinking spell and that somehow felt wrong to George. Throughout his 20 years on earth, his twin felt larger than life. He was consistently confident, sharp as a whip, and carefree. George was like that once upon a time but without Fred here, he had to be the one shouldering the responsibility - _all _of the responsibility. Product ideas, experimentation implementation, and of course the business side of things.

He did love it, as daunting as the pile of parchment gathering on his desk could be sometimes. It just wasn't the same without his best mate, his other half, there pushing him forward. He ran the happiest place in Diagon Alley. It brought joy to so many people but some days the thing that made him the happiest was flipping the sign from "open" to "close".

You'd think being alone in the apartment would depress him as well but it was quite the opposite. This was the one place he and Fred never shared with anyone else. Albeit a little quieter, maybe emptier without his constant jabbering, it was the only thing that really stayed the same after Fred died. Before this law, he hadn't even considering letting someone in this place. Hell, it never crossed his mind until he said the words. His new normal was sitting in the kitchen silently working through new ideas, occasionally with a Quidditch game coming through the static of his wireless. If Fred could see him now, he'd tell him to lighten up. It's just little Hermione Granger, he'd say.

_Hermione. _

He pushed a hand through his hair. Now he'd have to find a new, new normal. Granger was moving into his flat. Granger was moving into Fred's room in his flat.

George was to _marry_ little perfect prefect Hermione Jean Granger.

Scratch that. Fred would be laughing his arse off if he were here.

Of course, he always figured she would be a Weasley one day, just not by him. He knew she and Ron had kissed after the Final Battle but nothing had come of it since, and not for their Mum's lack of trying. The Weasley matriarch was dying for Hermione to be her daughter in name and not just spirit.

With a sigh and one last look around, George levitated the five measly boxes with the flick of his wand and sent them sailing towards his own room. Until he could figure out what to do with them, they would live in the back of his closet.

He liked Granger well enough but he had never considered anything close to marriage with her. She'd definitely grown up in her fight to save the Wizarding World but it was hard for him to see her in a romantic light. Then again, he hadn't really seen anyone in a romantic light since the war ended.

A knock at the door told him that this was actually real.

He opened the door to find a slightly soggy Hermione standing with a single bag and a less-than-thrilled orange puff in a crate tucked under her arm.

"Hello, George!" Her voice sounded cheery but it didn't quite match the flickering of nervousness on her face. "Awful weather today, yeah?"

"Looks like it." He stepped aside to let her through. "It's not much but this is home."

She dismissed his words with a wave.

"It has running water and no holes in the ceiling, I'm sure it'll be fine," she said. "Plus, it's way smaller than Grimmauld Place. Should make cleaning a dream."

"Actually, that's where you're wrong. You see, when the sun goes down, a large hole opens up over Fred's room."

"Oh really?" she asked, a small smile sneaking on her face. "That sounds dreadfully inconvenient."

"Very, luckily for you, should it be a rainy night like this one we have this couch right here," he said, gesturing towards a sad cluster of furniture off to the side. "It makes for a very comfortable sleeping spot as long as you avoid the middle cushion."

Hermione shook her head at him.

"Nutter," she muttered, just loud enough for him to hear. She turned her attention to the flat. It wasn't large by any means but it was homey. Straight ahead of her, the living room featured an assortment of furniture that was clearly second hand but it only made the space look comforting. Off to her left was a rather small kitchen. Not much room to move around there but it had all the essentials. When her gaze settled on the hallway just past the kitchen, her confidence wavered.

"So where shall I drop my stuff?" She tried to come off cool and collected but inside was desperately hoping he was serious about offering up Fred's old room to her.

"Right, rooms are down the hall, Fred's, well, your's is the first on the right." She followed him over to the hallway, trying to calm her nerves that seemed to return with a vengeance. "The toilet is right next door and my room is straight down the hall."

He pushed the door open to reveal the empty room, larger than she expected.

"Like I said, it's not much but there's an extension charm on the closet so you should have plenty of space. I take it your stuff is…" He gestured toward the bag in her hand. She held it up.

"Extension charm as well." He nodded.

"Do you need any help getting things sorted?"

"I think I can manage," she said, shaking her head as she spoke. A sheepish look crossed her face. "About Crookshanks, I'll keep him confined to my room. I realized we hadn't really discussed him but he and Harry aren't the greatest of pals so him staying behind was out of the question."

"Don't bother, let him run wild," he easily dismissed her concerns. "Won't bother me any. If anything, he'll liven things up a bit, don't you think?"

He flashed her one of those trademark, 100-watt Weasley twin smiles but it didn't reach his eyes. She wanted to ask him if it was horribly difficult living in the apartment without Fred, let alone letting her move into his space, but she couldn't. Her and George were familiar but they had never been close like she was with Ron or Ginny, even like her and Charlie have become over the last two years of Weasley get-together's. His field absolutely fascinated her and he could talk about dragons for weeks if given the choice.

"Well, I'll leave you to it then. I've got just a bit of paperwork to finish up for the shop. I'll just be in the kitchen if you need anything." She nodded and offered him a smile as he left the room.

Hermione opted to keep Crookshanks in the crate while she set up her room, much to his displeasure. With a little magical finagling she managed to get her bookshelves to stretch across one of the walls. Through Crookshanks' frustrated whines, she slid her bed into the back left corner. Her flicked her wand and set her clothes to the closet and dresser. After dropping a rug on the floor she finally unlatched the door to the crate. Ever the stubborn creature, her orange monster just sat there staring at her.

"Suit yourself," she shrugged. She moved to sit on her bed and took in the unfamiliar room, trying to will forward that content feeling you get when you're home. She hadn't known that feeling for awhile. The Burrow brought her close, but even there a piece of her heart felt empty. While she was lost in her thoughts, Crookshanks made his way next to her, brushing himself against her shins and demanding attention from the only person he was anything other than indifferent to. She leaned down, absently petting him until a loud whine escaped him. Glancing at a clock she had mounted next to the door, she stood up with a sigh.

"Right then, let's see if our new roommate wants some dinner."

Hermione made her way back to the main living area. George was hunched over parchment at the kitchen table, clearly unaware that he wasn't along anymore. Crookshanks made his merrier little way over to the couch, settling himself on the arm. Hermione walked over to where George was seated, looking curiously over his shoulder.

"That's some complicated potions you've got there," she commented. If he was surprised to hear her voice so close behind him, it didn't show.

"Tell me about it. This was always Freddy's forte. I can throw down a mean enchantment, can follow his directions even, but these half-finished products are the bane of my existence."

"You didn't come up with your stuff together?" she asked as she took the seat next to him.

"Oh, we did. Came up with what we wanted it to do, how it should look. As you said, it is quite complicated stuff and cracking through some of the roadblocks to get the finished product can be difficult. We used to divide up the work to our strengths." Hermione took time to really look at George while he was scratching away at his parchment. He seemed more mature than the boy she remembered back at Hogwarts, though she knew the war brought some sobering experiences for plenty of people. She guessed she could do a lot worse than marrying George Weasley. He was quite fit. His hair wasn't as long as it once was but went far enough to cover the scar form where his ear was cursed off. His brow was slightly furrowed in concentration. He looked serious, but more relaxed than she'd seen him in a long time.

"Are you hungry at all?" she asked. He looked up in surprise, meeting her gaze and then swinging his eyes over to the ice chest in the corner.

"I could eat, unfortunately it'll have to be a spot of takeaway." He met her eyes again, slightly embarrassed by the lack of food he knew to be in the chest. "I usually pop over home at the Burrow to eat."

"That's alright, I can run to the Leaky Cauldron to pick something up, so you can keep working," she offered. He threw a grateful smile her way.

"Sounds like a plan."

An hour later they were sitting cross-legged on the floor eating pub food. Hermione had started clearing off the table but George quickly shooed her away claiming to have a system that would allegedly implode if they moved it. He'd offered to transfigure the couch into another table but Hermione merely rolled her eyes, grabbed a pillow from the couch and plopped on the floor. Any awkwardness from earlier had dulled into a polite conversation.

"So, when do you hit the road again?" George asked, popping another chip into his mouth.

"Actually, I'm not sure."

"Is everyone already tiring of hearing about old Voldy-wart and his gang of ghastly pricks?"

Hermione couldn't stop her eyes from rolling, or the hint of a smile from sneaking onto her face.

"Not quite. More like I'm getting tired of hotel living. I was considering getting my foot into the Ministry."

"What would you want to do there?"

"That's what I'm not quite sure." Hermione furrowed her brow and started tearing her fried fish with her fork. "I was thinking maybe something with magical creatures, or maybe International Cooperation."

"Not itching to be an auror like Ron and Harry?" Her nose wrinkled at the suggestion.

"I've fought enough battles, thank you." George's eyes widen when he realized his gaffe. Just because Harry and Ron weren't done fighting their battles doesn't mean she wasn't.

"Right, sorry," he backtracked. "Should've figured you wouldn't want criminals flinging spells at you. You were always more level-headed than the other two."

"It's not that, it's just..." There went her brow again, wrinkling down to her narrowed eyes and pursed lips. "You don't understand what it's like to be hated for how you were born. It's something different facets of Muggles have dealt with over time but in the magical world it's only been people like me, Muggle-borns." She paused, looking up to meet his eyes.

"Mudbloods," she continued. He flinched at the word. "And, you know, it took a long time for me to get to the point where I wasn't jumping and drawing my wand and the slightest bump in the night. We all have our demons from the war. Ron and Harry may feel the need to hunt down every bad guy and rid the world of evil but what I need is a break."

"The break you've never really gotten, what with all these years of saving Tweedle-Dumb and Tweedle-Dim," he joked, trying to lighten the mood.

"Well, they've saved me a time or two as well." That familiar nervous feeling she started to feel whenever she talked about the war away from a podium started creeping up her spine. She shook her head, trying to rid herself of the feeling. "So if you don't clear off the table, where do you usually eat here when you have company?"

He let out a laugh - more like a bark, really, at her question.

"I don't bring people up here, usually. It was never a problem when Fred was around. We have a workshop down below the shop but since...well, it doesn't feel right anymore. And as I'm sure you've heard from Mum, I've not exactly been a social cornish pixie since Fred's gone."

Hermione gave him a tight smile. She didn't blame him. A lot of things felt wrong without Fred there. Holidays at the Burrow were hard, but even she had noticed the shift at Sunday dinner. When she'd be able to make it, of course.

Hermione leaned over a gave his knee a quick, comforting squeeze.

"This is a nice change of pace, though," he tilted his head thoughtfully to the side. "Although it would probably be better if we were in actual chairs." Hermione smiled and let out a small laugh. George felt his own mouth twisting into a smile at the sight.

"I think we're getting by just fine without them.

They fell silent as they finished their meals. Hermione was itching to ask him about Fred but it felt like the words were caught in an invisible net in her throat. George didn't avoid mention of Fred, but she knew he wouldn't go deeper than the surface. The Weasley's were loyal but when it came to their own they were a gossipy bunch.

Hermione checked the time on her watch and let out a sigh.

"I better be getting to bed, I'm meeting Neville for a cuppa in the morning." She stood up and started to gather their mess but a still-sitting George grabbed her wrist to stop her.

"Don't worry about it," he said. "I'll take care of it. I'm going to be up for a bit anyway."

She straightened back up.

"If you're sure. Goodnight, George."

"'Night, 'Mione." He stood up and started stretching. "Hey, thanks again for dinner."

She glanced back, throwing a quick smile his way.

"Anytime, George."


	5. Fairy Tales and Fireworks

Hermione trudged her way through Diagon Alley with her cloak pulled tight around her and her head dipped low in hopes that she wouldn't get stopped by anyone. Leona's was in her sight and she wanted nothing more than to collapse in her usual booth and drown herself in a steaming cup of Earl Gray. She hadn't slept much the night before but she couldn't bring herself to cancel on Neville. Again.

She immediately perked up when she saw Neville, ever the gentleman, had gone ahead and ordered her tea for her.

"Bless you," she said gratefully, pecking his cheek as she moved to sit down across from him.

"I'm just glad you showed up. I think the waitress is convinced I was getting stood up," he joked.

"Oh, hush, I'm not that late. How're things?"

"Oh, you know, gettin' by. Almost got the next round of supplies for Hogwarts set to go." After graduation, Neville had built a successful business growing and supplying potions supplies to schools and stores. He and Hermione had reconnected at a remembrance ceremony a year after the Final Battle and had stayed in touch. She found it was easier to talk to people who had lived through the horrors of the war but didn't know everything she had gone through. Only a small selection of people knew about the scars she hid under her long sleeves.

"How's the time change treating you?" he asked. "What is it you call it again...jet lag?"

Hermione took a long sip of her tea, savoring the warm feeling spreading through her body.

"Honestly? Right now I call it crap. Next time I go to the Americas I'm going to stick to the British timezone. They can loose sleep if they want to hear me speak so bad instead of reading my book," she said, smirking ever so slightly. Neville shook his head, smiling at the thought.

"So you're going to go back out then, eh?"

"Oh, I don't know," she sighed. "I was planning on it, but I'm getting tired of living out of hotels. And then all of this marriage law nonsense happened. I told George last night I've been thinking about getting a Ministry job and settling for a bit."

"George?" Neville asked, raising a brow. "Is that your match then?"

"Yes, moved in with him yesterday actually."

"Is he alright, then? Not a total loon?"

"Well, a bit of a loon, actually. It's George Weasley." Neville's eyebrows shot up.

"That's...unexpected. How's that going?"

Hermione sighed.

"It's a bit weird. On the list of Weasley's I'm close with he's just above bottom," she snorted. "Like I said, I only moved in yesterday. But at least it's someone I know. Did you get a letter?"

"Yeah, Mindy Lam. She was a year behind us at Hogwarts, in Ravenclaw. Didn't know her before, but she's nice." He absently stirred his tea. "I think you'll like her, she's a bit of a brain like you. She dropped by the greenhouse for a quick lunch last week and ended up watching me work and asking endless questions for about three hours."

"She sounds lovely! You'll have to invite her to tea next week."

"She's a coffee drinker," he told her, a shy smile making it's way onto his face.

"Don't worry, we'll convert her," Hermione assured him, patting his hand.

When Hermione returned to the flat, she found George hunched over parchment at the kitchen table once more with the added company of Crookshanks settled on one of his feet. His hair was sticking up in odd places as if he'd run his hand through it a hundred time and he was writing furiously. She hung up her cloak and slid into the chair next to him so she could see what he was working on. When his formulas finally clicked in her mind she furrowed her brow in confusion.

"Indoor fireworks? Didn't you and Fred already figure that out?"

George jumped at the sudden sound of her voice, causing the cat dart away in surprise. He'd been so engrossed in his work he had not even heard the door open.

"Merlin, Hermione, do we need to put a bell on you?" he asked as he rubbed a hand down his face.

"I'm only saying, I distinctly remember a rather fantastic firework-filled exit from the two of you at Hogwarts."

"These aren't exactly the same kind of fireworks. I'm not even sure it counts as a firework, actually." George let out a tired sigh before continuing. "Fred had this idea of making an indoor firework show that tells a story."

"A story?" Hermione tilted her head in thought. "Like a children's story?"

"Exactly that. I've been trying to configure it to tell the Babbity Rabbity tale from Beedle and Bard but I can't get it to make a continuous story."

"In what way?"

George turned the parchment towards her and started explaining that while, yes, he had gotten scenes to pop up each box would only send up one image when he wanted it to string multiple scenes in a row to show an actual story. As soon as he finished walking her through his progress so far Hermione went to analyzing it herself, asking questions and making suggestions as she worked her way down the scroll. George was reminded of how much quicker these things went when it was not just him trying to work it out.

Eventually, the two were charming and assembling a prototype. They had decided to charm it so that once the top of the box was tapped in a specific pattern on top, a countdown would start on the pods. The first would go up and after around one minute, as it was fading out, the next pod would shoot into the air. They'd manage to pull it together without char marks on either of them but the real test would be setting them off all in a row.

"Alright, ready?" George asked, preparing to tap his wand on the box.

"Wait! We should experience this like the consumers will," Hermione suggested. George lowered his wand and turned towards her.

"How will customers experience it?"

"If I had to wager, I'd say in their beds right before they go to sleep."

"So you're suggesting we set it off in bed?" He teased her, raising his eyebrows and allowing a wide Weasley grin to spread across his face. "Now that's not a something I'd ever thought the great Hermione Granger would throw out. Aren't you supposed to be a prefect-perfect pure role model?"

"Haha, very funny," she retorted with a role to her eyes. She grabbed the box on the table and set it on the ground, settling in on her back. A glance back at George saw him still standing and grinning at her. Hermione rolled her eyes playfully and patted the space next to her.

"Come on now, we've been at this for hours and I'm starving."

George laid down next to her, throwing a quick _Nox_ out before leaning up to tap a triangle formation on the top of the box. Once done, he quickly laid back down and watched the fairy tale unfold above him. The formations could be cleaner but he was able to follow the story clearly, from the charlatan teaching fake magic to him throwing Babbity under the bus. George and Hermione were fully grown adults but they still felt the special magic of watching the tale come to life.

"It's beautiful," Hermione marveled.

"You think it'll sell?"

"Oh yes," she replied instantly, turning her head towards George. "Maybe once you build up your fairy tale arsenal you could have the pattern on top be a constellation that coincides with each astrological sign so that people can buy the one that corresponds to their birthday."

"That sounds brilliant." He found himself smiling at the images above him. At the forefront of his mind, Fred would have loved it.

"George," Hermione said in a quieter voice than before. He turned his head towards her. "Have you thought about our wedding at all?"

George felt his body tense. Talk of their looming nuptials was still uncomfortable territory but it somehow felt easier in the dark, the only light coming from the colors sparkling a few feet higher.

"Guess we need to figure that out sooner rather than later." He turned his face back to the show. "After all, I'm sure Hermione Granger's wedding will be front page of the Prophet." He snorted at the thought, but Hermione was noticeably silent beside him.

"If it's alright with you, I'd actually prefer we just go to the Ministry and sign the papers. I don't really want a big fuss."

His eyebrows rose but he didn't say anything. for a moment.

"I don't mind, but I'm not sure how mum will feel about that."

With another sigh, Hermione turned her head back to the ceiling.

"I guess I was just hoping with Ginny and Harry getting married, we could go a little more unnoticed. They love each other, and I don't want to be the poster child for going along with this asinine law." She hesitated, flicking her eyes in his direction before continuing. "Besides, my parents...they still don't remember me. Don't you think it would be a pretty sad sight to see your side packed and mine barer than Hogsmeade on a Tuesday?"

George wasn't quite sure what to say, but her nervousness got the best of her so quick that it hardly mattered.

"I just never imagined getting married without them there." She started absently tapping her fingers on the floor. "We were so excited when we learned I was a witch and they were so proud of me all the time. I made peace with knowing they're out there living life happily without a clue that I exist but it's agonizing to think that they won't be there when I get married, or when I have kids. I'll never know what they think of you, or my career choices, or your's because they don't know me."

George felt his heart breaking for her. It was evident in her voice that she had been holding a lot of emotions in throughout this while he'd just been avoiding it. He lost his twin and while it hurt, he had a whole family to be a support system and grieve with him. They were her support system too, but even he knew that it wasn't the same, not really.

He reached a hand out and grabbed her's. He intertwined their fingers, effectively stopping the tapping.

"I've given up so much for this world since I arrived and I'm just wondering where it ends and I start getting something in return." She sniffed and lifted her other hand to wipe a stray tear away. "Sorry, you're the last person I should be complaining to about this. My parents are still alive, you lost Fred for good."

He gave her hand a firm squeeze, keeping his eye on the fireworks as Babbitty peers out from behind the stump and hops away.

"We've all lost something to the war, Hermione." She rolled her head towards him once more but he kept his gaze locked on the ceiling. The last sparks from the fireworks were fading slowly, the only other light in the apartment shinning in through the windows.

"Your pain still matters."

Hermione tightened her grip on his hand, willing her unshed tears to retreat back to where they came from. He wasn't the first person to tell her that since the war ended but laying their in the dark it hit her harder than it had before. The two stayed there for awhile, neither wanting to break the comfortable silence they were in. George knew Hermione wasn't the scrawny, bushy-haired eleven-year-old he remembered from that first day he saw her on the Hogwarts Express but it wasn't until now that it hit him what all she had been through. He was sure there was plenty he did not know about her time in the war but he was sure every bit of it was worse than the few parts he did know.

None of it was fair, but Hermione always tried to make the best of it. She tried to be strong all the time but he could tell that it was hard on her. They might have been forced in to this situation but in an instant he decided he wanted to make it as easy as possible on her. He may not be in love with Hermione Granger but he'd be damned if he wasn't going to to make the best of this.


End file.
